


Our faith

by Lindanais



Series: Our Faith [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Blow Jobs, Episode: s01e06 Bastogne, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:19:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6784927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindanais/pseuds/Lindanais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They almost  ever spoke to each other. The only thing the medic and the Lieutenant had in common was the Second World War. And Be silent in a noisy world. And a secret born in the cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To be consoled as to console

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a series.  
> I'm Italian but I decided to write in English because in Italy this fandom almost doesn't exist and I love it very deeply. So I apologize for the possibles mistakes. Enjoy!

To be consoled as to console 

December 19, 1944 - January 3, 1945

The days in Bastogne were all identical and endless. You couldn't sleep, you were never really awake.  
Eugene added to his usual work, numerous cases of trench foot, pneumonia and the worst assaults of melancholy and sadness that he had ever faced since the start of their war.  
Besides Christmas was approaching.  
The only thing that worried him most of the spirits of the men was the scarcity of medicines and bandages. Like him, the officers employed the waiting time passing by a group of soldiers to another trying to lift up the morale. Especially Lipton. His dedication was able to warm up a bit the Doctor too.  
The Company D had approached the area assigned to Easy but the holes in the defense were still many. For the soldiers it meant more expeditions, for Eugene more wounded.  
He had lost the sensation in the fingers and toes before the sense of direction and He couldn't drive away that strange numbness and the anxiety of feeling like a sleep-walker, like he was just dreaming of walking around looking for bandages and morphine.  
The problem of morphine tormented him. The health of Joe Toye tormented him. The insinuating terrible doubt of not being able to keep safe those men tormented him. The fear to collapse instead, killed him.  
“Wanna smoke?”  
Eugene winced in a such evident way that he immediately felt embarrassed. Lieutenant Speirs was staring at him seriously, standing in the middle of the flat snow. He was watching the Doctor for a while, attracted by the sound of footsteps, he was smocking observing his tiny but solid figure, with the medical bag and with no trace of any weapons.  
“Sir, I went to look for the third battalion to ask for morphine. I couldn't find it, I was coming back”  
“Wrong way”  
Eugene tried to catch a tone of reproach in the Lieutenant's voice. During the few verbal exchanges they had, Speirs always used that same tone of voice. He had spent enough time with the soldiers to know by heart what people say about the Lieutenant, all bullshit born he guessed a cause of the man's icy manner and his ability to intimidate everyone.  
“Wanna smoke?” he repeated holding out a packet.  
Eugene looked at him. He took a cigarette getting close to have it turn. The absurd stories about Speirs had curiously all to do with cigarettes.  
It was a nice night, with the sky clear and bright, the kind of night that can turn in a nightmare before down. Hell if it was cold.  
Speirs lifted a corner of the tarpaulin that covered his hole, pointing to the Doc with a nod, as an order.  
At Bastogne they learned to perceive as warm an environment few degrees higher than the outside and a hole in the ground as cozy.  
Speirs slid in after him, smoking in silence as if he was alone. Eugene didn't mind at all, the quiet was comfy and free from expectations. He had never been so close to the Lieutenant and observing him discovered him younger than he had thought. It seemed ages since the last time he could just sitting.  
There was a reason why Eugene didn't permit himself to stop, sleep and torpor fell instantly ruthless on his destroyed body. Squinting in the dark he didn't see Speirs getting close and picked the presence only when he was in front of him, very close. Of the Doc's cigarette remained just an ash stump resting between his lips, the Lieutenant took it with the fingers tossing it to the ground, along with his.  
Speirs had steady eyes and his usual glacial and efficient attitude. He took of Doc's helmet revealing the black eyes, stuck in a worried expression, the held breath.  
The man sharply attacked the Doc's pants, pushing aside the bulky medical purse.  
Eugene didn't emit a sound while he urgently pushed him away. Speirs blocked him against the glacy wall holding him by a shoulder, the other hand rapidly back to unfasten tea pants of both.  
Eugene pushed him away again with more force, the Lieutenant stopped him with his whole body smashing him against the ground. The narrow space forced them to keep their legs bent, restricting movements and their strength.  
The eyes and the expression of Speirs were unchanged but the breath was gasping, his right side blocked the Doc's knee against the ground while the other was blocked from the shotgun. The medic looked at him shocked, his forehead wrinckled, his white lips motionless and mute.  
Eugene frozed and a strong strangled gasp was the only sound that left his throat for all the time when he felt Speir's hand closing on both of their body.  
Speirs kept his eyes close, his shoulder pressed against the medic to hold him down, the gasping breath near to the sensitive ear, a hand on the wall next to Eugene's cheek that with eyes wide open staring at the top of the hole, breath stuck in the trachea.  
The Lieutenant felt the hand's man on his wrist but he didn't drop in intensity the stimulation and it didn't take long to finish. Speirs's grab was strong, the tension and the surprise did the remainder.  
Eugene felt a warm and violent wave come from both and was the only moment he closed his eyes breathless while the hot surge that spurted from their bodies exploded painfully as the blood from the wounds that he fixed every day. He shivered.  
Speirs briskly wiped his hand against the wall, then looking for a cigarette. He didn't offer it to the medic. Eugene looked at him quietly recovering his breath, the serious eyes divided between accusation, pain and surprise.  
The smell of humidity and sweat was piercing, They both needed time to realize that they stopped to feel cold. The Lieutenant seemed to hold up the other's gaze without problems. Eugene was about to open his mouth when the familiar yell startled him back to the reality, to the war, to the front.  
“Medic!” Doc turned toward the wall, he saw his pants still open and closed him quickly, turning again toward Speirs.  
“Medic!!!”   
“Lieutenant Speirs!!!”  
Without another Eugene climbed rapidly towards the opening, he was almost entirely outside when the other took slowly his wrist putting up his helmet in his hand and without a word he trespassed him running towards the battle.

The nurse of the Bastogne aid station ran between a wounded to another. She never forget any soldier despite they were hundreds, all equally dirty and dying. She reminded his sister to Eugene. Not because of the French, not only at least, it was how she looked at him. His sister always seems happy to see him.  
The soldiers watched each other, men who kept watch over their brothers in arms with the terror to seem they die. Eugene knew why the nurse was glad to see him. Their hand were stained with the blood of the best friend of someone and at the same time of the tenth soldier of the day. And everyone looked at them with the same prayer in the mouth. The nurse always smiled tiredly at him, it was nice, even though she hadn't dark hair and a tiny mouth.  
Toye's foot didn't make much progress, Sergeant Lipton coughed continuously, Compton gave up in lucidity. After the death of the young replacement, Heffron always sat as close as possible to the Doc. The cold was increasing and they still didn't have any air cover and supplies. On Christmas Eve the bravest of them ate snow and lemon powder, all tight and close by each other in the holes.  
Last bombardment had completely destroyed the city of Bastogne and the Easy Company hadn't yet received the order to move.  
In that part of iced war the Eugene pain wasn't the cold or the hunger or the chocolate bar always in his bag but not for him. It wasn't the deads, the terror and whistilings of the bombs, the exhaustion that made fools the soldiers or the exhausting search for medicines.  
It wasn't the nurse death.  
It was her blue handkerchief recovered from the ruins and that was the only thing that the doctor kept for himself for few moments. The only things that the medic kept for himself were the stained handkerchief and the secret in that hole with Lieutenant Speirs.  
His pain was discover that he hadn't any bandages for the wounded hand of Edward Heffron but just the blue hanky in his purse.

Speirs was standing for hours, sporadic but aggressive attacks hadn't given him any rest. Sheltered in his hole tasted for the first time in almost twenty hours the silence.  
The cloth on his head was sharply moved away and the Lieutenant saw sliding beside him the Easy Company medic.  
Eugene didn't say nothing, dirty and pale stretched quickly the hand on the Speirs jacket's pocket, took the pack of cigarettes almost finished and tried to light one with shaky hands.  
On the third failed attempt Speirs took the lighter from his hands and with the small flame lit Doc's cigarette and another for himself.   
Eugene sat abandoning his head against the wall and smocked letting the bitter smoke filled his lungs.  
They both sat in silence, waiting.


	2. To be understood as to understand

To be understood as to understand 

December 28th 1944 Bastogne Belgium

The ice become fire with the same cruelty of the first yell that pierced the air. The enemy artillery exploding falling as rain, The tree crushed shooting wood bullets. The scream were continuous.  
During the battles the attacks were always alternating, one part caused the hell and the soldiers of the other part burrowed in poor refuges shouting out the terror and the hope to survive once again.   
When the soldiers were made as small as possible was Eugene's turn. The medic ran bent between the explosions and the shrubbery, rushing blindly in the refuges that He met on his way and trying to understand from where the shout calling him was coming from.  
The Lieutenant Speirs saw Doc Roe passing next to the mess of trunks where he had hidden running toward the first line, just before a very close explosion set fire to the air around them making it impossible to breath.  
Eugene was forced to stop. The instinct told him to hide and wait for it to end, the instinct ordered to run in the opposite direction.  
With the new call for rescue Eugene jerked without thinking, bending the knee to prepare his body for the leap. Lieutenant Speirs grabbed him by an arm just a second before the jump, pulling him toward his refuge.  
“Stop” he ordered “wait.”  
Doc obeyed and a roar of the fiercest hit the area with incredible violence. The Lieutenant didn't look at the doctor, he remained with the body stretched out with senses concentrated at most to catch hiss and air movements continuing to holding Eugene's arm.  
The latest explosions had devastated the area but they seemed to have brought a short truce. The yells for a doctor immediately broke the sudden silence.  
“Go.” Speirs said slowly. Eugene looked at him just for a moment before to running off.

 

January 3th 1945 Ardennes forest Belgium

Speirs spotted him from afar, recognizing the bent figure and the dirty red cross that he brang on his arm. Eugene vomited bent forward, putting an arm against the trunk of a tree as support. Speirs could see the red and sweaty face, the body shaking with tremors and a small golden cross hanging from the neck toward the ground jump at each new impulse to vomit. The sensations of blood and the hands pressing on Joe Toye stump wouldn't disappear even with the next retching.  
The Lieutenant Speirs remained for long time watching the Easy Doctor without approaching, seventh later He became commander of that same Company instead of Lieutenant Dyke, after an epic feat in battle would have been able to impress even Bill Guarnere.

February 4th 1945 Haguenau France

Sergeant Lipton's forehead still burned a lot. To defeat that flu rest in a quiet place and few medicines would be enough but they didn't have neither one nor the other.  
Eugene rubbed a wet cloth on the face of First Sergeant while checking the pulse, He was feared could become pneumonia.   
Speirs looking at him from the other side of the room resting against the desktop with his arms crossed, without smoking. Doc murmured something to Lipton with a brief caress, before covering him with a blanket and let him sleep.  
The Lieutenant followed him outside, in the adjacent room that He used as an office. That ancient building was a good headquarter, the fornitures were a bit decadent and dusty but after the weeks spent outdoors no one had anything to say.  
There wasn't much to add about Lipton conditions, He had to stay as much as possible warm and at rest. Eugene turned embittered to Speirs.  
“Wanna smoke?” he asked.  
Eugene remained in silence looking at him, tense. It was the first time that he found himself alone with the Lieutenant without a bombing in progress. Speirs seemed calm, organizing bored some cards but He lifted his eyes to Doc when He didn't receive any answer. Eugene replied softly.  
“No... thank you, Sir” Speirs nodded lighting a cigarette for himself. The Doctor hesitant stood in the middle of the room playing with his helmet.  
“Do you need me for something else, Sir?”  
Speirs blew up from his lips a jet of smoke.  
“No, Thanks Doc, you can go”

February 11th 1945 Haguenau France

Speirs looked at the doctor, He seemed more tired than usual. Major Winters asked Doc for that night to wait the second expedition near the banks to be ready in case of emergency. The night before there would have been still many possibilities for Jackson even if Eugene had been part of the expedition itself.  
Speirs took his leave from the Major after Doc and still found him with the back resting against the wall in the hall of the building, the eyes away and looking fragile.  
The Lieutenant took two cigarettes and handed one to Eugene, without asking anything, enjoying the first deep breath. Doc stared at him a moment before slowly taking the offered cigarette.  
Speirs came quickly to the man clutching in his hand the lighter, Eugene pulled back so abruptly that the still off cigarette fell to the floor. Speirs stepped back, the doctor had wide and serious eyes, looked mortified and angry at the same time, face and shoulders in obvious tension, breathing hard.  
The Lieutenant picked up very slowly the cigarette from the ground without a word, He took another one and let it on a wooden coffee table, along with his lighter.  
Eugene watched him leave without being able to add anything.

March 2nd 1945 Haguenau France 

Eugene sat in a side of the large room on a big table, trying to guess how long it would take the soldier Wynn to pour all the beer on him. He couldn't rely on the reflexes of Luz, He was drunk as him.  
An old gramophone crackled strange German ballads that seemed to laugh to death all the platoon, the sound jumped at irregular intervals firing burst of high music that made everyone jump. For the soldiers was enough to be there.  
Doc sipped beer from the can that someone had brought him, his shift at the field hospital ended by an hour and the only bed available for him was in that same party room.  
The soldiers were laughing vital, someone stumbled to the ground, someone was singing. The weight of the absentees was felt only like a background between a toast and another. Eventually those parties were good for Eugene too.   
Speirs came slowly and sat next to him, on the same table. He took a pack of cigarettes making jump out some of it who offered to Lipton, crouched beside the doctor who refused, then to Eugene.  
The doctor blinked at him, took one letting Speirs turn it on, taking another sip from his can to drive the sleep away.

April 10th 1945 Thalem Germany

The wrist of the man who Eugene had given to drink in the afternoon with a teaspoon couldn't be much thicker than that branch on the ground. He couldn't tell the age but only that he certainly would be dead in few hours.  
The doctor had seen for the first time in that lager the enemy against whom they were fighting. Until that moment He only heard that word from the soldiers he was trying to save. A skeletal Jewish boy embraced him.  
Eugene walked along the avenue surpassing the first real decent houses obtained in a long time, running around at that hour there were only sporadic groups of soldiers in charge for the night. When he passed all greeted him.  
He found Speirs in the shadow with the back resting against the door of his building, he seemed asleep. Doc spoke only when he was exactly in front of him.  
“Sir, can you offer me a cigarette?”  
Speirs said nothing, with the arm He opened the door behind him just enough to permit Doc to enter, then closed it behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!!! And apologize again for the mistakes!


	3. Where there's despair in life let me bring hope

Where there's despair in life let me bring hope 

The veterans were surrounded by a kind of aura that made them different from the new, fresh recruits who thronged the files in the mess hall and at the training camp.  
The veterans had been aged by the war and wounded by the Germans and they were united by a strong bond that was born when they had the same eyes of the new arrivals and their vitality.  
In Normandy, in France, in Holland you couldn't give up because of the war and for your brother next to you but the war was now distant, as if it had ceased to affect them, and the lucky ones who still had their friends beside, shared with them the strong desire to come back home.  
Their lives and their war were entrusted by a points system, a war wound could made the difference to reach the threshold that could take you home. The lucky ones were few, the others remained stuck waiting for orders between patrols and exercises.  
“Don't you sleep?” Eugene sipped his coffee waiting for the usual sound of lighter that always accompanied that voice. Often He sat in the dark of the night on the small wall around the infirmary.  
“I'm not used to sleeping anymore” He replied with sincerity “then I'll be on duty at the hospital soon”  
Speirs said nothing. The night was quiet and fresh in a pleasure way.  
“Do you want?” the Doctor asked holding out a chocolate bar. The Lieutenant shook his head and Eugene broke off a little triangle for himself.  
“You have a lot of work in the hospital?” Eugene took a moment to answer savoring the chocolate on the palate, usually the Lieutenant questions were purely work-related.  
“No. Just some minor injury. But the guys are exhausted”  
“What about the morale?” Doc put his empty cup beside him, standing up.  
“It is an official question, Sir?” Speirs chuckled briefly, He took the chocolate bar from the pocket of the Doc's jacket detaching for himself two little squares. Eugene kept looking at him.  
“The morale of the men could be better, but there's no much to do about it” He said softly. The Lieutenant nodded, looking him before returning to his duties.  
“Good work, Doc”

Speirs knew the morale of his men, He felt it every day during the exercises, the rampant nervousness and fights without reasons that started all the time. The tension that ran between the men was different from what he had learned to manage in battle giving a reason to fight to his soldiers, this was generate from boredom and impotence. And from four years away from home. Speirs hadn't remedy for none of those things.  
The medic had better medicines. The soldiers had returned to visit him frequently as they did at Camp Toccoa when the fear, effort and the possibility to skip another draining march made the infirmary a warm and friendly place.  
For some of these soldiers there were loopholes, small stratagems that Major Winters could put in place to send some of them home. He had to make a choice though.  
Speirs saw entering Eugene bent over Shifty Powers, lying on a cot. Doc was talking softly holding his arm, he gave him a couple of pills and a glass of water.  
“What's wrong with him?” Speirs asked when the medic came near.  
“Nothing. Just a strong homesick” He answered putting the empty glass on his desk “He hasn't a high enough score” he added.  
“Are you busy? Could you follow me to the headquarters?”  
“Sure, just a moment that I have to warn my colleague”  
Speirs was waiting right outside the hospital, as he saw him he headed toward his personal office a few steps ahead him. Eugene followed him quietly watching the man's back in front of him. So they walked along the building and corridors and once arrived the Lieutenant let Doc in and closed the door behind him.  
“Winters needs confirmations about the men to send home. I have here the documents of Easy, your opinion is important cause you know the men in a different way from us.”  
The doctor walked over the desk a little surprised from the request, taking absorbed one of many scattered sheets, on the top he read the name of George Luz.  
“So Doc, you are about to go on leave?”  
“What? Uh no, I haven't enough points” Speirs turned quickly toward him, the medic sketched a tiny smile “you know, no heroic deeds in battle, no war wound...”  
Eugene refused the cigarette offered, he was resting on the edge of the desk with the jacket a bit open and the legs stretched slightly apart. His eyes immediately became serious when he saw Speirs approach with a lit cigarette in his mouth. He put an hand on the right thigh of the medic as he was testing the situation. Eugene remained tense but stationary even when the other hand of the Lieutenant went up to his chest and stood by the small golden cross around his neck.  
“And...they don't have any other doctors to sent here in place” Speirs said dry dropping a bit of ash on the floor.  
“I'm not a rel doctor” Eugene said softly as a reflex.  
“You mean you weren't a real doctor” Speirs threw his cigarette, gripping hard with both his hand the Doc's sides. Eugene's questioning eyes became worried when the man is very slowly bent on his knees beginning to fumble with the buttons of his pants.  
“Speirs...” He admonished stopping the hands on his hips with his own. Speirs looked at him calmly, holding his gaze while with a light pressure overcame the resistance of the medic making slide down pants and underwear along the white thighs.  
Eugene's eyes were very black. The Lieutenant took him into his mouth before that both could wonder what would come next.  
Doc dominated the urge to push himself away clinging strong the edges of the table and closed his eyes because look at the Lieutenant was impossible but stare at the door was even worse.  
Speirs gave him a very little respite, licking the sensitive skin with strength and efficiency, alternating the force of the movements with wet obscene sounds that pierced Doc's ears like blasts of grenades. And around them was again battle, dangerous and powerful, driven by instinct, by life and by the deafening noise of their own heartbeats. Eugene didn't feel the blood flowing in his veins so that when desperately tried to save Joe's leg. He gasped for oxygen, throwing up the eyes to the ceiling and trying to chase away the thoughts. He could feel the difference between the hot and cruel tongue of the Lieutenant, among the more delicate teeth and the lips that conceded no escape.  
He was trying to hold back the moans while the embarrassment and the fear that someone could knock at the door drove him crazy as the thought that the Lieutenant didn't seem to care at all.  
Speirs seemed drunk these shivers one by one clutching his trembling thighs and savoring everything about that body alive and throbbing, the sweat, the effort and the embarrassment.  
Open and pulsating wounds, the urgency, the air search, the fight to combat the orgasm had all the same carnal and lightning matrix and Eugene came with a strangled groan that left him sweating and breathless and for some instants everything was still and silent, in truce.  
The Lieutenant stood up slowly just wiping his mouth with a sleeve of his jacket, looking at him calmly. In the black eyes of the medic he could read the guilt and the accusation, but Speirs watched only the red cheeks stand out on his pale face.  
Eugene clumsily buttoned his pants, stopping only when even the last button was closed, aware of the other's gaze on him. The breath slowly returning regoular.  
“If you wanted we could find a loophole for you, Eugene” Speirs said suddenly, breaking the silence in the room. The medic looked at him for a long time trying to probe the ice face of the Lieutenant and his clear eyes.  
“I don't think is my turn yet” He answered slowly but firmly. He turned to the desk to check once again the documents of the members of Easy Company.  
“I'll give you and Winters my suggestions for the men” He said. Speirs nodded and smiled briefly, lighting a cigarette.  
“Okay. Good work, Doc”  
Speirs watched him go, the shoulders more relaxed and the cheek still flushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you!  
> more romanticism in the next chapter!


	4. Where there is darkness, only light

Where there is darkness, only light 

 

Speirs let himself fall exhausted against the back of the chair. He was buried alive by a flood of papers. Between those documents there were also his papers and his decision to be taken. He had to decide when his war would be over.  
Luz came running without knocking, followed by a couple of mates.  
“Lieutenant Speirs! Grant was shot in the head!!!” Speirs closed his eyes for only an istant.  
“Who did it.” He asked as an order.  
“A recruit. He was drunk”  
“Call Doc Roe” he ordered with his eyes fixed on his desk. George Luz hesitated just a moment.  
“Call the doctor!!!” he thundered again.

Eugene stared in the semi darkness the short just finished reports. He had always hated writing. The infirmary was quiet, the few patients asleep in the adjoining room. His turn was over, he was destroyed. The coffee was cold, he wanted a cigarette. That tension alive under the skin prevented him from getting up from that chair. He thought of her grandma who when he was child always gave him the goodnight by closing gently his eyes with the long fingers.  
George Luz entered opening the door with violence calling him with a shout full of anguish. Eugene lunged forward grabbing his purse motioning to the Lieutenant to give him way. They ran in the night , in silence, at a speed that could still surprise the doctor after so many years.  
The volume returned deafening in the moment when Eugene reached Speirs making his way through the soldiers. The Lieutenant looked like an ice statue.  
The medic checked quickly the wounded body of the soldier, according to his usual ritual, he puts an hand on his face turning him to have a better view of the deep wound on the head.  
“I'm here Grant. Don't worry” he said whit the rapid and precise hand pulled off the bandages while the other one with the teeth tended the thread of the plasma drip his way through dark hair and blood. Eugene understood immediatly. He looked up slowly to meet those of the Lieutenant.  
“I can't do anything, we need a surgeon” He whispered. Speirs looked him in his eyes.  
“What does that mean?” He asked glacial.  
“That means that he need a brain surgery. Operation that I can't do.” replied surprise by that tone. For a moment Eugene believed that the Lieutenant would hit him. For a moment the look of Speirs was that of someone who had lost his head. But it didn't happen.  
“Do your damn job, soldier” He spat out viciously.  
“We need a surgeon, Sir” the medic said firmly, pronoucing the name with force.  
It was inly then that Eugen saw it. The fear in the eyes of the soldiers took the most varied forms, he had seen it to many times to kwows it by heart. And he knew the ruthless way in which he could also block the strongest of the officers. Speirs that with downcast eyes holding the arm of one of his men hit a betrayal by one of them.  
Even the doctor could understand that even an inside enemy could be lethal. And much more difficult to combat.  
“Lieutenant Speirs” called firmly “we need to call the surgeon”  
Speirs looked at him briefly, with a different look. Eugene waited just a moment in silence looking at him before turning to the waiting soldiers.  
“Call the surgeon! Immediatly! You'll find him in G sector!”

The jeep ran renzied through the city in the unlikeliest alleys. At each curve Eugene was forced to throw himself on Grant's body to hold him, his hand remained firm on the IV.  
Speirs sat motionless next to the German brain surgeon at the helm, the only able to help the wounded soldier.   
With the same lightning speed with which they reached the hospital, the medical staff had taken care of the wounded and disappeared behind the doors of emergency rooms leaving them alone in the deserted waiting room.  
The Lieutenant Speirs decided to sit next to Eugene after a long time but also by sitting could not keep his legs still. Neither of them seemed to want to say anything. Smoking was forbidden. Suddenly, they were again waiting in the trenches, just when they had begun to think that the battles were over.  
The doctor was looking ahead, holding between the long fingers the little gold cross that had accompanied him all the way from Louisiana. He looked calm. The lieutenant looked at him. It seemed passed whole days. He could no longer remain silent.  
"You rely on that during your expectations, Doc?" He said, pointing to the crucifix, He had done nothing to mask the sour note that accompanied the question. The doctor didn't answer, didn't move either. The man insisted.  
"It isn't thanks to the prayer that you are alive." There was something urgent and desperate in his attempt to provoke him that drove Eugene to watch him. The lieutenant looked exhausted. And it really was.  
"You have your faith, I have mine." He said softly.  
"It isn't the prayer that brought you alive up here," he repeated, "It wont be a prayer to save Grant." Growled aggressively.  
The doctor was silent for a moment, the cross still held between his fingers.  
"Maybe then it will save the soldier who shot him."  
It was an istant. The chair next to him was thrown across the room with explosive violence. Eugene felt only the violent displacement of air to his ear before he hear the thunder of the crash. Speirs was trembling. The effort to control himself was such as to make it sweat, his hands clenched, breathing heavily. The furious eyes.  
A nurse with bloody shirts chose that moment to invade the waiting room.

Speirs never knew what stopped him from shooting at the soldier. It wasn't for his age or for the fact that it was tied to a chair, beaten up by a furious band of brothers. He didn't save him for pity. And certainly that dog deserved to die.  
He had pointed a gun to his forehead with the intent to kill him. With a burning desire to kill him.  
All the men of Easy were there. They watched him with tired eyes, reddened knuckles and the sleeves of jackets rolled up. Speirs had ordered them to have the soldier alive only for kill him. But he dind't. He strucked him and delivered him to the military police.  
The Sergeant Grant had passed the most critical phase.

Speirs was visible almost only for the tiny flame of the lit cigarette. The boys had felt the need to cling to each other for that night, Eugene knew he would find out there the Lieutenant, alone.  
Speirs knew it was the doctor sitting beside him only because he couldn't be anyone else.   
"Grant is out of danger." He said softly. The Lieutenant lit his second cigarette. The medic refused what was offered.  
"I decided to stay with the men." said Speirs softly. His voice had recovered the usual efficient tone. The doctor replied almost immediately.  
"I imagined"  
Eugene was a deeply silent person. Light-footed and polite gestures. The lieutenant allowed himself to look at him in the dark. Since the beginning of the war he had heard from him just a handful of words. All those necessary and no more than necessary. And anything upon himself.  
Speirs moved slowly. He reached a hand toward the doctor's face, placing it on his cheek. He slightly turned his face and kissed him.  
Eugene kept his eyes open in the dark. Something in the tenderness of that kiss surprised him and wounded him more than their first meeting in the icy hole of Bastogne. It had been eight months since that day.  
That was their first kiss.


	5. Where there's sadness ever joy

Where there's sadness ever joy 

Nights like those had become less rare. Nights when the officers could allow themself to drink more than usual without much thought. Their laughter for soldiers meant that the war was really on its last legs.  
Eugene sat with them, although it wasn't equal in rank. Although his discreet smile couldn't rival Nixon's loud laughter.  
In the war the weight of responsibility was common to all the officers. Like the trust placed in them by the soldiers. An officer couldn't confide their fears to a soldier, couldn't show their weaknesses. Rank and role created an insurmountable barrier between them and the troops. The same applied to Eugene.  
The doctor smiled at Nixon, already very drunk, He was pounding affectionate pats on the back of Winters spoking about his son, his only pride. Major Winters seemed serene. He even left his friend poured a generous amount of whiskey into his glass. But Eugene knew he wouldn' t drunk it for real.  
Speirs was sitting beside Harry Welsh. He had briefly recounted about his hometown, Boston, of how the Scottish father had always hated it. The lieutenant looked serene, with the more relaxed facial muscles and eyes less tired of how the doctor was accustomed to seeing them.  
"Eugene and you?" Winters asked suddenly, "You never tell us something about Louisiana" the smile of the commander was warm and genuinely curious but the doctor still felt uncomfortable.  
"Not much to say," he replied kindly. Nixon chuckled. Winters seemed waiting for him to go on.  
"Camon, let Gene alone. He isn't a guy who likes to chat, on the other hand is a great listener, am I not right Doc?" said Lipton. The first sergeant had always liked the doctor but after Bastogne and the treatment for his pneumonia He had begun to adore him. Eugene thanked him with a nod.  
"It's true," confirmed the medic, "but it is also true that there is not really much to say about Louisiana" he added with a smile. Speirs studied him quiet all the time.

The doctor was standing in front of the desk. He hadn't noticed the Lieutenant staring at him behind his back. Speirs knew he was there to deliver the latest reports, and that He was advantage of his absence for a last check. Eugene hated writing them, and He was never sure of the result.  
"And so there is nothing to say about Louisiana?" He said amused closing the heavy wooden door. The doctor gasped in surprise.  
"You scared me," he said. Speirs chuckled sitting on the back of the ugly sofa.  
"Well?" He asked.  
Eugene looked at him, the reports still in his hand. He put them gently on the table.  
"So what," He asked. The lieutenant rolled his eyes. It seemed extraordinarily cheerful, probably even a little tipsy.  
"Louisiana." He clarified. Eugene shifted his weight from foot to foot, moving his gaze to he imposing library.  
"What do you want me to say?" He asked. Speirs didn't want to make him angry.  
"Everything. What you want, I know nothing. Your family for example, where you were born, what you were doing before."  
"You never asked," he said quietly but firmly.  
"I'm asking you now," the soft tone Speirs was not enough to convince the doctor. The blacks eyes were still fixed on the library.  
"Why is it so hard for you?" The man's question was genuine. It was really the first time for them to spoke of something that does not strictly concern the soldiers.  
Eugene didn't answer. He moved toward the door, overtaking him.  
"Excuse me, but I have to be at the hospital shortly."  
"Wait, please." Speirs spoke softly stopping him by the arm without using force "wait." He repeated.  
Eugene waited. Speirs watched him, waited a few moments before picking up his hands to the closures of the Doc's tunic to quickly open them easily learned with practice. The protest of the doctor was too weak and he didn't really made any resistence while he was pushing toward the desk.  
"Lieutenant ..."  
"Wait." He said again. The voice had become hoarse with desire.  
The Lieutenant began to lick the delicate skin of the throat while the clutch of their basins obligated him to cling to the solid Docs's hips trying to not lose stability on the already shaky legs.  
Eugene's heart pounding in his ears as the man kissed his chest through the thin cotton tank top. In an instant for Speirs was too much. Eugene too white, eyes too blacks, thigs too solid, groin too hot. With a gesture of the arm he cleared the desk while the other one turned the doctor urgently. Eugene found himself face against the table while the papers that had been scattered with such violence still had to touch the ground.  
Speirs was immediatly on him. With his legs against hims, with his mouth and his teeth on his neck made his blood boil. Hands impetuous overcame pants and underwear without asking permission.  
Speirs had never asked permission. He had always taken by Eugene what he had wanted in a such intimate and violent way. Following him, touching him. Kissing him.  
He didn't ask permission even now before crashed him toward the desk, before once again masturbate him in a way that not even he himself could do, before exposing him naked again at sounds, gestures, smells. Before found his way through the buttocks and penetrate him with a finger wet with saliva.  
Eugene tensed immediately. He groped for the lever arms to move but the position did not allow him to use the force necessary. He tried again. Lieutenant's pelvis pressed hard rubbing against him. He could hear his cries hoarse, hot pressure, his hard erection and a second finger that he tried to join the first one at that slow and clumsy movement in and out.  
“Speirs ..." he called with a voice that belonged those gestures but not to him. Speirs answered hoarsely and with sweaty face. It was almost an order.  
"Wait."  
Eugene waited. He waited what he knew it was going to happen, he surrended his body at the shivers and the intrusion, the voracious lips and his crucified that tinkled against the smooth surface of the table like a rebuke about what was happening. The doctor's eyes closed trying to calm down, he came back with the mind to the lake close to home, his grandmother that had long braided gray hair.  
Speirs noticed it almost immediately. It was like if the entire body of the medic had suddenly emptied. But were his eyes to snap him backward.  
The lieutenant was panting heavily, the shivers from the groin were passed in the chest, making it heavy. He had never asked for permission, but he had always assumed to have it.  
"Eugene ..." he tried. The doctor had been standing in the same position a few seconds before pulling slowly to his feet without saying anything, buttoning his pants.  
The Lieutenant looked at him without understanding what had happened, when he had crossed a forbidden border. He felt wounded as his intentions had had unforeseen consequences as well. Wounded by Eugene had allowed him to do so. Then came the anger.  
The doctor had almost reached the door without having the courage to look at him once.  
"It doesn't work like that, Eugene. It's easy caring for others. It's easy to just accept the fear of others. The fear must be accepted. Not only in war. You don't let anyone get to know you, but this doesn't make you brave, but only coward "Speirs spoke slowly with the cold and efficient tone that he used with his soldiers. And that served to mask the sadness and the breath. The doctor looked at him.  
"I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. "  
Eugene closed the door while the Lieutenant lit a cigarette.

Speirs couldn't sleep. The next day was one of the most tedious that the Lieutenant couldn't remember and he was intractable. He never smoked so much.  
He believed was the rage to consume him. Against the doctor, but also himself. He couldn't admit that the anger was hiding the fear. A differnt kinf of fear from that of the German bombing, a more intimate fear about ruining something he cared about. On his hands he could still feel the warmth of Eugene back. He didn't see the medic all day.  
Speirs had asked the whiskey to Nixon and he had locked himself in the office, the warm night made the air heavy and filled with the smoke of his cigarette.  
His second glass was interrupted by a slight sound, a knock on the door. Eugene entered slowly. He took one tentative step toward the desk where the Lieutenant looked at him seriously. The silence was tense. It was the doctor to break it.  
"I was born in Morgan City, far south of Louisiana. But I've always lived in a small rural village. I'm Cajun mother's side. My father died long ago and so my grandmother who I loved very much. I have two sisters and a brother. I am the older. At home we speak Cajun dialect. I am a Catholic." Eugene had spoken softly but without hesitation, pausing between sentences and the other as if they were anchors to fix. He took another step forward, then seemed hesitant "I enlisted to help my family." He said slowly, "Before leaving I lent a hand in the construction of small houses, barns mostly. I knew nothing about medicine. "  
Speirs was looking at him seriously. He stubbed out his cigarette and stood up slowly, sitting down at the desk.  
"What your sisters name?" He asked. Eugene answered, looking into his eyes.  
"The biggest Alisée, the smallest Cecile"  
Speirs continued to look at even when the doctor put his hands on the jacket zip, opening it and letting it fall to the ground.  
"And your mother?"  
"Maud" the next question came after a long moment of silence.  
Speirs and the doctor had faced this war together. They had never talked much. They had never made a lot of questions.  
Speirs could feel his heart in his ears.  
"Why are you telling me?" He asked.  
"Because you asked me."  
In response, the Lieutenant pointed to the sofa with a nod and when Eugene was sitting joined him.  
If it wasn't for the desire that was devouring him alive Speirs could better enjoy the overwhelming relief to be able to still have that delicate throat between his lips. And those moans strangled in his ears.  
Their meetings were always fast, made of rough and feverish gestures animated by the urgency of the moment and a little embarrassed, with the fear of getting caught that prevented him to undress completely. It was the instinct to guide them. Were their bodies to look for each other.  
And Speirs went wild for erratic responses of Doc's body, the way it indulged him and at the same time withdrew driven by contrasts of its owner who was watching the Lieutenant with shining blacks eyes.  
Speirs penetrated him with a snarl. He conquered the close and warm space as if it was a new trench, slowly but with the adrenaline of battle. Eugene clenched teeth and fists, burying his face in the dusty upholstery of the back of the couch. Speirs began to masturbate him while he fucked him, dripping sweat and biting his lips for the fear to be heard.  
It was the first time he did it and he again didn't asked permission.  
The doctor sank with a long low moan on a cushion. The Lieutenant followed him shortly after, biting his shoulder strong.

Eugene was buttoning his coat thoroughly. His hair were slightly disheveled. Speirs watched him smoking. He looked calm.  
"It's true that your grandmother was a traiteur?" He asked suddenly. The doctor looked at him in surprise, the man shrugged.  
"I've heard it from some soldiers," he explained.  
Eugene smiled. The silent smile that characterized him. He finished dressing.  
"It 's true." He said, then walked toward the door. When he turned to look at him the expression was calm, "excuse me, I gotta go, I have to go to the hospital"  
Speirs simply laughed. A short laugh, but he wore a deep relief.


	6. Make me a channel of your peace

Make me a channel of your peace

 

Eugene had celebrated together with all the others. He had heard the notice ad in that field, with his ridiculous sporting shorts and the baseball bat in his hand. It had been their bursting joy to push him to join them in the wild ride around the makeshift camp.  
The end of the war was such an unattainable dream that now the news of the actual end was almost unacceptable. That race for them meant they had survived.  
Eugene laughed. Strong, or at least stronger than he had ever done. He turned to the group of officers, Speirs was looking at him.

 

Were feverish days, the men seemed prey to a mad impatience. The first departures were organized in record time, the first greetings rich of hugs and future promises. Also filled with many tears.  
Eugene had been patient, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. He didn't contact home, the habit to banish the thought of his family in a remote corner of his mind had been so strong that now felt almost pain to remember the smile of his sister.  
It had been a medic for four years. And be "Doc" had been his conviction and his salvation. Now he had to say goodbye.  
Ronald Speirs controlled lists of departures of soldiers every morning, quickly he jumped the whole alphabet to arrive to the letter "r". When he saw his name he simply took in his hand the letter of dismissal. The departure was scheduled the next morning.  
Eugene saw him coming with his surefootedness, unveiling him in his refuge away from collective confusion. Speirs handed him a letter, the doctor looked only briefly the date.  
"What will you do now, Gene?"  
"I go home."  
They avoided looking. Among them they were always miss the words, never the looks.  
"And after that?" Speirs said, almost shyly. That strange tense, the dense air was caused by the embarrassment. They knew of having to say goodbye, they did not know how to do it. The war had been their cover, the chance to not think about them.  
Eugene did not answer, looked tense.  
"You will seek work in a hospital?" He tried. The other turned surprised.  
"I'm not a doctor." He said enunciating the words. Speirs had heard it from him many times but never with that tone. Suddenly a subtle and insidious veil of anger fell on them.  
"I can't believe it." Speirs said with sharp cold voice that had earned him his fame among men. Eugene seemed fed up, shook his head, turning to leave.  
"Are you telling me that you're going to leave the medicine?" He asked incredulously, opening his arms. Eugene stopped and looked back at him whit bright dark eyes. He said firmly every single word.  
"I've barely finished the middle school, Ron." Speirs stopped. They knew so little about each other.  
The air was hot and made them sweat, the silence between them grew less heavy but more sad.  
"It's the first time you call me by name." Speirs said after a while. Soon after he lit a cigarette.  
"You're going to fight in Korea?" Eugene asked while the other aspired a second breath.  
"Yes."  
There was silence, the two looked at each other not knowing what to say. The first cigarette was finished. Speirs held out the package, Eugene took one and let him lit one.  
"Be careful." He just said. Speirs looked at him.  
"You too." He replied. But he never said about what.

 

Eugene listened to the heavy breathing of the others in their comrade. There was a strong smell of stagnant alcohol and sweat, was what was left of that last night. The doctor listened to them with closed eyes on his cot. For him that was his farewell. The farewell from the living companions, he'll never be able to say good bye to the deaths. He squeezed between the fingers his lanyard, worn by many prayers, passing it between his long fingers, trying to yield into light sleep. He couldn't think about home, he couldn't think about war.  
A hand clenched firmly his mouth, military training prevented Eugene to scream and he opened his eyes widely. He didn't need to focus entirely to distinguish Speirs in the dim light.  
Suddenly, he was full of fear, someone might see them, someone could wake up at that moment and ask himself what made the Lieutenant Speirs on the cot of Doc with a hand on his mouth.   
Speirs looked those dark eyes filled with reproach, and removed his hand slowly, while sitting on the edge of the cot just stared.  
Eugene wouldn't have followed him out of the room or at least Speirs was too afraid to ask. He simply stared at him. The doctor sat moving cautiously, his only hazard was to move his right hand almost to that of lieutenant pressed on the iron board. Among the snoring of drunken comrades they could still hear their breaths. In the dim light of the room they could still look each others into the eyes.  
Speirs couldn't give him anything, not his plate or his ring, not his book, much less a photograph. He mooved an hand before deciding what he wanted to do, unbuttoned the top of his shirt, showing the white shoulder. Eugene held his breath, Lieutenant put his lips on there, soft, and then bit. A strong bite. The doctor's eyes widened but Speirs was quickwhit the other hand to silence him again.  
Eugene stood, accepting those teeth, accepting the pain and the warmth of the man's mouth. He accepted that farewell.   
Speirs took his hand and kissed him without searching for his gaze but only his lips that Eugene offered to him already hatched and wet, and his tongue that was swift and angry, and his solid and hard teeth. Finally he searched for his throat and again Eugene offered it to him, exposing it at the little light by tilting the head back. And Speirs kissed it.  
"There isn't anymore an hospital waiting for you, Eugene." He whispered softly.  
The eyes of the doctor were liquids. Speirs was afraid to forget them or never be able to do it.  
"Safe journey, Doc"

 

It was an endless journey. They put him on a plane to the United States with which reached New York and then another to Atlanta, Georgia. He stayed there a whole day waiting because apparently they had lost the order to make him reach the Louisiana. Then took a bus and after a local train to Montgomery in Alabama where he finally flew to New Orleans.  
His arrival in Louisiana marked his actual leave. The army was gone, leaving him alone with a train ticket to Morgan City. He was still wearing his uniform, he had no other clothes.  
From the dirty window of the train Eugene recognized the landscapes that had surrounded his life before the war. The simple houses, lived. Whole. The manicured fields. The hot and humid late summer sun.  
He couldn't think about anything, neither emotion nor sorrow. Neither the disappointment of not being able to feel anything special.  
In Morgan City he took another train, so old and rundown that the noise inside the cabin was unbearable. With the landscape also changed the people, and the smells. And the sounds. That dialect that always made Eugene a bit ashamed but that had helped him more than once in France and Belgium. He get off in the middle of nowhere, where it ended the railroad, where began the rural and deepest part of his country.  
A man saw him so confused that he asked him if he needed help, so Eugene obtained a ride on the back of a pick-up that had seen better days but that would take him straight in Bayou Chene. His home.

 

The sunset was still in his debut when Eugene saw the family home along the endless campaign trail. Bill Guarnere always said that the sun made everything seem nicer than it actually was. Perhaps he would have laughed seeing the doctor with his dirty uniform and the military bag on his shoulder walking in the dust, illuminated by the light of the warm summer evening. "As a true hero who returns from the war," he would said.  
Eugene was not laughing though, he slowed his rate discovering little by little details that had remained in his memory even though he had never teased them in those years.   
The white picket fence, the rusty mailbox, the plum tree. And then the porch, the barn, the garden, the wires for drying clothes.  
He stopped right in front of the entrance of the fence that surrounded the modest but well-kept house. It was very hot. A girl came out from behind the house with a basket full of washed laundry. She was sweaty, with a summer flower dress and long hair. He had to have about 18 years.  
After having meticulously laid the first sheet she straightened to wipe his forehead with his arm and saw him. It took only a few seconds, the laundry basket fell tumbling to the ground and the girl opened her mouth starting to run strong, toward him.  
Eugene said nothing, he dropped to the ground the military bag and simply opened his arms.  
It was September 18, 1945.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.  
> This was the last chapter for the first part of this story.


	7. After the war, a new winter

Mrs. Bateau's daughter was suffering from a bad cough for weeks, but Eugene had found her improved since his last visit.  
The air in the street was unusually cool, Eugene shrugged his jacket paying attention to the sweets that the woman had insisted would take in exchange for the care for his sick daughter.  
He liked the mornings. He liked the voices of merchants calling for customers, the animated groups chatting on the roadside, the busy women who trailed behind little boys and girls.  
"Gene!" The post office boy reached him, he had more or less his age but looked much younger "Gene, there's a telegram for you. Arrived this morning. "  
Eugene took him surprised, thanking. No one ever wrote him. He opened the letter into the street, holding it firmly in his hands. The paper was rough and yellow, just few lines.  
"Hotel President, New York. I will be on leave for a week from Monday. I'll be waiting for you, R.Speirs "  
Eugene lifted his gaze again on the road.  
It was October 24, 1946.

DAY ONE

The hotel was modest but clean. Exactly what Speirs needed, a quiet and tidy place to get away from the army and all that was part of it.  
The last few months he had been weakened. He would never have accepted that leave if he not been so tired. He lit a cigarette looking out on the quiet road from the window. He still had not taken off his uniform. It was cold, smoke is dispersed in the dense early winter wind.  
He didn't know if he would come. The journey was long, expensive and there was no real reason to do so. Ask was a gamble. He knew it, but he couldn't help but wait.  
When he came down slowly into the lobby and saw him bent over to sign a paper for the receptionist almost wasn't surprised. He stood studying him, adjusting here and there the memories, getting used to the faded jeans, hair a bit longer. He recognized the green bag dangling from one shoulder, lingered on the soft curve of his ass. He lookes for those white hands, waiting to see his blacks eyes.  
Eugene stood up very slowly, clutching the keys of his room and his telegram, on which he had added the directions to the hotel. When he finally looked at him he was showing a shy smile. Speirs said nothing.

Eugene was looking out the window in the far corner of the room. Speirs had followed him into his bedroom, he saw him place the bag n the floor and approach the wall in silence. He couldn't see his eyes, but was studying the curve of his shoulders confused with beige wallpaper.  
He lit a cigarette, Eugene said nothing. Far, far away, hid in his silences and his fears.  
Speirs was looking at him. He didn't know how to touch him. He looked at him and he didn't know what to say, he had never known.  
He didn't know who was that guy with the threadbare sweater and handmade scarf.  
Yet this stranger had faced an endless journey in response to a letter he had sent him.  
Speirs ground out his cigarette and lit another. The air in the room was becoming thick and toxic.  
"Are you hungry? We can eat something in the hotel's restaurant "  
Eugene didn't move, he continued to look out the window.  
"Yes," he replied.

The dining room was small and the warm lights of the chandeliers made it look even more intimate. Apart from them, only one other table was occupied. A man and a woman focused on their wine and their plates.  
Speirs ordered a bottle too along with a steak and listened Eugene ordered the chicken with gentle ways. He had a stronger accent than he remembered.  
Was more difficolt now to avoid talking to each other.  
"You came." Speirs took a sip of wine without proposing a toast.  
"Yes."  
The food arrived. Both ate slowly and reluctantly. Speirs was the meat overcooked and tasteless.  
"How are things?" He asked.  
"Good." Eugene chewed softly "with the army?"  
"Always the same."  
The other couple ordered desserts. Speirs watched the waitress go back and forth from the kitchen, she looked like the owner of the place, maybe she was his daughter. Eugene continued to tease with the tip of the fork aqueous zucchini remained in the plate.  
Speirs ordered a whiskey, Eugene didn't want it.  
They got up from the table with a strange feeling of pain under the skin. And a sense of cold in their lungs when they parted on the landing of the respective rooms.  
Speirs barely heard Eugene's whisper "goodnight".

The worst that could happen was to finish the cigarettes and Speirs was dangerously close. He returned to count every time they lit one. Seven more. He counted the hours that separated him from the morning. He had opened the window to refresh the room and had closed it after because of the cold.  
He was attentive to every sound coming from the landing. The noises disturbed him.  
He wouldn't admit to being afraid to hear his door in the middle of the night. To hear him go out straight to the airport and go back where he came from. He wouldn't admit to being afraid of not being able to hear it at all and discover it only in the morning. Six.  
It was more than a year that HE was trying to push away thoughts about the medic. He had revised memories and imagined different scenarios for another meet between them. It had been just over a year since they had seen last time. He hadn't thought that they couldn't recoglised each other. Yet the way he tilted his head was still familiar. Five. The morning still far away.

DAY TWO

Eugene had washed his face three times. He was used to sleep bad and just for few hours. The soft mattress gave way under his weight while he was stroking the rough blanket with his hand, looking toward the window and the rather weak morning sun.  
He had learned to wait in the army. And as in the days of the war he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Maybe someone knocked on his door, as happened a little later. He heard the loud voice through the wall.  
"You're awake? Let's go out. "Speirs said.  
Eugene is granted a long, deep breath. He took his coat and scarf and left.

Speirs had forgotten that Eugene hadn't had the opportunity to travel. For him traveling and war had always coincided. Eugene couldn't help looking around in amazement of the large and chaotic streets of the big city.  
They didn't talk much but the open air had blown away the heaviness of that hotel.  
Speirs handed Eugene his coffee paying the peddler, looking the other warming his hands around the hot container.  
"Not exactly the weather you're used to, eh?"  
"I endured worst," he said. They giggled and the sound seemed to surprise them both.  
Speirs took him around, giving some brief information from time to time. Eugene followed him mild, smoked a few cigarettes and asking a few questions.  
"Why you know so well New York?"  
"Our father used to bring us here when we were little," he said, at the entrance to Central Park.  
Very slowly the small deitails were coming back to mind. True details, not those who they had invented reconstructing memories. As Eugene had often cold hands he how he held tight them in his jacket pockets. As Speirs smoked greedily exploiting each cigarette until the end before mash with the shoe. As their voices sounded together.  
At lunch they ended in a Diner near Broadway. Speirs had wanted to take him to a different place but he was afraid that Eugene could feel uncomfortable and he had some doubts about his jeans and his dark old sweater.  
"What are you doing now?" Speirs tried to randomly question, sipping his drink.  
"I work as a builder, for the most part." He said, looking briefly, the other nodded leaving open every comment. Eugene blinked at him, his jaw hard and steady eyes, thin lips. He thought he had never looked him before.  
"Often ... often people of the country, or those nearby, ask me for help," he conceded speaking softly "as a doctor. Nothing special, sprains and colds, mostly "  
"Have you ever thought of starting an internship at the hospital?"  
Eugene saw their maid arrive with their orders.  
"There are no hospitals close to my country," he said, then smiled at the girl with the card that says "Cyndi"  
esa.

The hotel had greeted them a little better with its hot rooms after a day spent in the cold and with a sky that promised rain just that.  
At the reception the daughter of the owner gave them both their keys. Speirs stopped him on the landing, holding him by the wrist.  
"How about a drink?" He asked, letting him go. Eugene said nothing but followed him over the door of the chamber, pretty much identical to his own.  
Speirs stopped him against the wall, quickly taking away the jacket of both of them. He pulled Eugene's sweater over hir head, leaving him in shirt unbuttoned fastest of the first buttons. He seemed to have a specific intent and Eugene, intrigued, let him do it. The right shoulder was quickly discovered. Last time they had said goodbye with a bite and to Speirs seemed normal start from there, from the last brand that he had left him, his teeth that had impressed pain and a strange sort of gratitude and that now they bit with anger, anger to know that Eugene would never contacted him.  
Eugene bit his lip, releasing only a slight moan as his hands sought the support of the wall. His thighs held down and open, the groins pressed against each other. The bite was over and the relief mingled with pain again. Speirs slowly sucked the red marks, softening the burning with his tongue, continuing along the neck, down the throat while his hand tugging at his hair to make him tilt his head back. The lips met a light chain. Speirs remembered the little golden cross, which was vibrating on his chest during each of their meetings. There was no sign of dog plats.  
Eugene opened eyes and mouth as all the blood flowed to his groin tight in that hand. He couldn't help but follow the movements, to increase the contact, to push against those fingers. Speirs stopped just the time to take off trousers and underwear. Eugene did the same, quick.  
They took a few steps in the direction of the table, Speirs tried to bite him again but Eugene flinched away.  
They grabbed each other's erections shaking vigorously, helped by the movements of the groins and the encouraging moans. Eugene gripped the edge of the table, Speirs was holding against him, pressing his thighs. The groans were almost roars and the movements of the hands were erratic. Was a race that, a battle, and both would be happy to win or lose but they would never admit it. There was no surrender.

Speirs was smoking sitting on one of the armchairs. He poured them both whiskey, Eugene was running his hands up his glass, waving the amber liquid. Among them he was dropped a nervous silence.  
"Why you don't bring your plates?" He asked almost casually. Eugene looked up briefly in surprise.  
"I'm not a soldier." He answered simply. Speirs took a long sip without looking him.  
"The army will always belong to you, Eugene," he said slowly. Eugene looked at him now.  
"It's me that don't belong to the army." He replied. The air in the room was heavy and hot, smelled of smoke and sweat and sex.  
"Bullshit. Hide the plates isn't enought to forget who we are "Eugene's eyebrows shot up toward the front.  
"Forget about who we are?" He repeated, hoping to sound less ridiculous saying it loudly. He licked his lips alcohol. "It's you who don't know who you are out of the uniform" he said softly, with the intent to hit. Speirs didn't bite.  
"I am what I am. At least the army fit me and I fight with my men and not against what I am. "  
Eugene's eyes narrowed slightly, but remained firm.  
"You see something that no exist. The war for me was a parenthesis, it's not what I am "  
"And what are you?" He almost shout "a builder?" Eugene answered quickly, strong.  
"My father was a builder, there's no shame in it"  
"The point is that it's not you. The point is that this kind of life, in that country will kill you just like the war, but more slowly. Or worse, you'll die without knowing of it "Eugene was on his feet, Speirs had never heard him raise his voice so much.  
"You don't know nothing about my life!" Speirs was waiting ready to reply.  
"Then why did you come?!" they both paused a moment. Eugene didn't answer, recovered his breath. Speirs looked at him. "Then why did you come," he asked again.  
Eugene went to the window, opening it slightly. When he turned his eyes were calmer and more sad.  
"You're fine only with the war, Ron." He said. Speirs grinned.  
"At least I admit it."  
"Fuck you." The expletive almost surprises both "You know nothing."  
"So you're right, Gene. Married a nice peasant girl who accompany you to church on Sunday, who prepare you dinner and give you beautiful children. Continues to build barns and treat colds and allergies for your neighbors. "  
Eugene smiled. A very bitter smile.  
"It would be so terrible?" He asked. He wasn't trembling anymore, anger had finally given way to fatigue and frustration "You don't really know anything, Ron." And left.

He had tried in his room. He knocked a long time. He had called him. He had apologized. He received no reply.  
He had hoped from the beginning he wasn't went out, not at night and not in that cold.  
The receptionist seemed annoyed enough to convince him not to ask him anything. The night swallowed him in a cold vise. The fog and the few streetlights made the road almost deserted. Eugene couldn't really be far away.  
Then Speirs saw him, standing in the dim light, tight to his jacket. He approached slowly.  
"Why did you come," he said softly, immediately regretting having asked for it. Eugene looked at him for a long time. He knew that his answer at that time was crucial. He let go his arms swayed slightly, as a surrender.  
"For the same reason why you invited me, I think."  
Speirs wouldn't get anything more than that answer, he knew it. But he didn't need anything else. Not that night.  
"Let's go back. It's cold," he said. Eugene followed him in silence.  
They slept together in the same bed, without touching. They were so tired to fall asleep immediatly.

DAY THREE

The deluge had caught them in the late afternoon, returning from Liberty Island. They were soaking wet in a few minutes. Neither of them really mattered but still joined the crowd, running with the people through puddles and flower beds, crowding on each other in the few shelters. They laughed. And Speirs hearing Eugene laugh crushed him even stronger against the canopy, pushing him against a woman with whom the Cajun immediately apologized.  
They were waiting in the shelter, watching the rain, with the clothes stuck to the body and the hair dripping. Eugene squeezed the statue of the freedom in his pocket which he had bought to take home and when he looked Speirs his dark eyes had never seemed so alive to him.

There was a crack in the right corner of the ceiling, Speirs kept staring at it lying on the bed. The only sound was the shower from the bathroom.  
Eugene indulged long showers when he could, perhaps the only vice that the war had been unable to erase. The sound of water stopped. The crack was still there.  
Speirs saw him in a cloud of steam wrapped in a toweling robe. He was looking for the shirt he had forgotten on the chair. Speirs was there in a moment, between him and the bathroom.  
Eugene held his gaze. He deflected it only when the robe was slipped over his shoulders to finish on the ground, revealing his naked body. Speirs stepped back, allowing himself the luxury to look at him for the first time. There were always fragments of images and flaps of skin and discovered hidden in a matter of moments, between a shot and another, between one battle and the other.  
Now they had time. Time to study the manly shoulders, burned from the heat of the water, the collar bones, the chest with a few dark hairs, dry abdomen and thin waist. The solid, white thighs, the knobby knees and the hard calves. The feet. And the pelvis, the dark groin and a half erection between the black hair.  
Eugene let him look, looking ahead over Speirs, his face still red from the shower. It was beautiful.  
Speirs put a hand on his chest, without pressing, just so becuase he could. Or to invite Eugene to get back at him. The blacks eyes were hesitant, eyebrows slightly furrowed in that expression that Speirs had always thought was reprouch. He pushed him slowly towards the bed and was immediatly on him. He explored his body slowly, starting from the throat that he loved to madness, squeezing between the pads the lobe of an ear, pinching the inner thigh with the other hand.  
Eugene allowed him, eyes to the ceiling and open arms on the bed almost like a surrender.  
He sniffed his navel, stroked a testicle, tasted the salty tip of his erection. He explored the base, with the tongue and lips, he stayed on a vein sucking it and Eugene tensed accelerating his breath. Speirs smiled and he wrapped him entirely in his mouth enjoying every shivers.  
Eugene bit his lip, clutching the rough fabric of the blanket. When that warmth left him, he forced himself to move his eyes from the ceiling to him. Speirs was standing looking at him. He unbuckled his belt and slid the pants to the ground. He opened the buttons of his shirt, revealing itself for Eugene and was naked with only those black eyes on him. And Speirs kissed him, hard.  
They made love slowly, perhaps for the first time. Fighting for the domain and ceded it, leaving time to distinguish each other's moans, leaving time to feel every thrust. Leaving the time for the after shock, to feel the other's skin, sweat and shiver, without fear, without clothes, without haste.  
After a while Speirs lit a cigarette and handed it to Eugene. Then he lit one for himself.

DAY FOUR

The fourth day surprised them late in the morning.  
Eugene, lying on his stomach, blinked his bleary eyelids to the light filtering through the curtains. Speirs beside him lifted up the phone and called the room service.  
"It's raining," he said, returning the head to sink into the cushion. Eugene kept looking out the window. From outside came muffled loud sounds of the storm and the wind that didn't seem willing to stop soon.

Eugene emerged from the bathroom with only a t-shirt and light trousers. Speirs with bare chest smeared butter on a slice of bread. The breakfast tray resting on the bedspread was a clear signal of the lazy intention for the rainy morning. Eugene climbed from his side of the bed, grabbing grateful one of the cups of coffee.  
Speirs watched him chew his breakfast calmly, the amount of butter and jam that he had used betrayed his greedy nature.  
"You really are not going to look for a hospital to complete your medical training?" Speirs asked casually, sipping his black coffee.  
Eugene seemed concentrated in chewing but answered calmly.  
"My mother is elderly. The youngest of my sisters is not healthy, and my brother is still a boy. I can't go anywhere. "There wasn't bitterness in his voice, for him was just a simple fact.  
"This doesn't mean that this is what you want, however," commented. Eugene finished his coffee without adding anything. Speirs lit a cigarette from the window slightly ajar.

They lay in bed for hours. The open window accompanied them with the sound of the storm. Both staring at the ceiling thinking about the last time they were allowed to remain simply so, without doing anything. Every now and then they spoke. Sometimes they searched for the other with the hands. Other times with the lips. A truce that had nothing to do with their lives or with their natures.  
"What's wrong with your sister?" Speirs asked. Eugene, belly down, was playing with a bedspread fringe, weaved it between the index, middle and ring fingers.  
"We don't know." Answered. Speirs's eyes get lost again on the crack in the ceiling. Perhaps the only reason for the calm that had caught them was that they both knew it had an expiration date.  
"Why do not you ever ask me anything?"  
"Because I'm not good at responding." Speirs smiled, turning on his side. He lifted Eugene's shirt and began to kiss his back, dropping down toward the sacrum.  
He had learned to be more gentle in the preparation. With the intrusion of his fingers and tongue in that small ring of muscle. He had learned to read Eugene's body, his reactions, his fists that closed on blankets and laughed recognizing in the laboured breath the effects of his attentions.  
Eugene never smiled during sex.  
Speirs knew to take something of him whenever he pushed inside him, sweaty bumping against his back, causing the jump of the small crucifix that hurt Eugene most of the signs left by Speirs's teeth on his neck.  
Speirs arched above him letting go a long hoarse groan before fell heavily on him. Eugene could feel against his neck his sweaty forehead.  
Speirs fumbled for cigarettes, reaching blindly toward the table.  
"How is Korea?" Eugene asked, taking the already lit cigarette that was offered to him.  
"Far."  
Eugene gave short puff.  
"How long will you stay?"  
"The time required." To close the speech Speirs gave up on his elbows to turn on his side, suddenly attacked the open lips of Eugene who let out a surprised gasp.  
In a moment Speirs was on him, again.

Every now and then they closed the window but they were always forced to re-open it to change air. Speirs didn't counted the cigarettes anymore, the day before he had made enough supplies.  
On the right side of the bedside table there was the little statue of freedom that Eugene had bought. Speirs asked if he was hungry. The other shook his head but poured a glass of water from the jug he had left on the table at the corner of the room.  
Neither of them felt the need to watch the clock.  
Speirs had never had time to observe Eugene after sex. To observe the movements made abrupt by the after shock and the hurry to clean up. Counting the time needed for the breathing to return normal and the time for the usual calmness to come back to cover him with the same speed as his cheeks lost that red light. To let him deal with everything, nervousness, cleansing, embarrassment, and relaxation. To see how beautiful he is.  
"When I ask you something you never answer," Eugene pointed out at a certain point, wiping dry hair with little care.  
Speirs smiled.  
"Try it," he said. Eugene rolled to one side, pondering.  
"What is your favorite dish?" He asked. Speirs needed to think about it a few moments.  
"Chicken and potatoes," he replied at the end. It was Eugene's turn to smile.  
"What do you believe in, Ron?" Speirs answered quickly this time.  
"In the discipline."  
Eugene stared at him and Speirs wondered, not for the first time, what he saw when he was looking at him.  
The hours went on without them counting them. Every now and then they fell down, falling into a light, relaxed sleep.  
Speirs began to smoke, looking at Eugene's face lying on his forearms crossed on the pillow. He breathed flat but didn't sleep for real.  
"Did you learn to speak Korean?" Eugene asked suddenly without even opening his eyes. Speirs blew out the smoke from the nose.  
"I've only learned a word for emergencies," he replied.  
"which one?" Speirs scratched the tip of his nose.  
"Cigarette." Eugene burst out laughing, filling the room. The open window warned them that the storm was over, leaving space for the strong rain and city smells.  
"You know," Speirs said, "I think it's the first time that I hear you laughing at my joke"  
Eugene opened his eyes looking at him, without changing his position.  
"I think it's the first time I hear you make a joke."

The air was warm and saturated. They were in that state of drunkenness that just doing nothing could give. Even if the cognac bottle had helped.  
Speirs caressed Eugene's flat abdomen, playing with the dark curl of the groin. He spoke to him briefly about his brother. He was older and in the army too. Eugene understood that they had an ambiguous relationship, tense as the one he had with his father, who died with colonel degree. There were things that Speirs deliberately chose not to say that Eugene was able to read anyway. Speirs wanted to have the same capacity.  
"What do you ask in your prayers?" Speirs asked, gently shifting the golden cross from the delicious pink nipple. Eugene didn't answer immediatly. Speirs left a small bite on his forearm without really expecting an answer.  
"I pray for be able to have the necessary strength," he said sincerely.  
Speirs wanted to ask strenght for what but he didn't. He lowered his lips to the protruding bone of the pelvis, sucking strong. Eugene arched his back.  
"Have you had any contact with the others?" Speirs asked on his lips, biting them softly.  
"No." he replied. Speirs took him by his legs, Eugene hooked him behind his back, the only hug they could afford.  
Speirs pushed inside him again and again, as strong as ever, as if it were the last time.

Eugene opened his eyes in the dim light. From the window filtered only the first weak lights of dawn. He closed his eyes trying to fall asleep again. Trying to forget about time, light, Speirs's aspleep breath on his shoulder and his flight to New Orleans scheduled for that afternoon.

DAY FIVE

The airport was crowded.  
Speirs watched well-dressed ladies with their finely finished suitcases.  
Eugene returned with the printed ticket in his hand. He stopped in front of him, struggling to support his gaze.  
Speirs had thought for a long time whether or not to go to the airport with him. When he saw the taxi outside the hotel, he had simply slipped in without thinking.  
Looking at him he was trying to momorize the details, those who he knew were the easiest to forget with the passing of days.  
He wanted to ask him so many things. If he was fine. If he will be fine. To think seriously about a doctor's career. If he was afraid to say good bye like him. If he could write him. If he could give him a kiss.  
He chose to ask the only thing he really needed to know.  
"If I call you again you will come?"  
Eugene looked at him. That was a prayer, something Eugene knew well. He looked at him in the blue eyes, dark and hidden. He thought at home, at the rain and at their hotel. At his jaw and his military uniform that he wasn't wearing.  
"Yes," he said.  
When, before being swallowed by the doors of the passenger area, Eugene looked at him, Speirs saw the same shy smile he saw on him the first night. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily. When he opened them, Eugene was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for my english and thank you very much for reading <3


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